


Wielded

by OneLetteredWonder



Series: Sanders One Shots [8]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Creature Fic, Protective Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Swords, Violence, Weapons, monster fighter virgil, nothing graphic but its there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:01:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24667288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneLetteredWonder/pseuds/OneLetteredWonder
Summary: Each of the sides can conjure a weapon, something that represents who they are. Roman, Logan, and Patton all know each other’s, but they are about to learn what Virgil’s is. He just wishes it didn’t have to be in such circumstances when the creature in his closet escapes.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil & Creativity | Roman & Logic | Logan & Morality | Patton
Series: Sanders One Shots [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1768828
Comments: 2
Kudos: 141





	Wielded

**Author's Note:**

> Written before Can Lying be Good, no Remus or Janus.

He had to. Virgil knew he had to, something deep in him called him to do it. But he didn’t want to. Still with shaking hands he steps closer to the closet with it’s rattling door and scratching coming from the other side. He’s only been there two days, still not brave enough to step outside, and the closet beckons to him.

He’s barely turned the handle when the door fly open and smushed face monkey on the body of spider with four too many legs springs out and lands at his feet. The scream is natural as the creatures scuttles towards him hissing and spitting. Without a second thought he raises his hands and then swings them down.

The weapon between his fingers is powerful and silver, strong and sturdy. It’s for him, and he knows this. It’s to protect he knows. To stop whatever is coming out of his closet from getting free. He trips on himself on his way to slam the doors to his closet shut, a nice loud _click_ sounding out as he does. He back away from it, watching the once spider thing puff into ash on his carpet and disappear. That when he has his first panic attack. His air is ragged and his vision swims, and all his can think is that never, never can he let one of those things get to anyone else.

He knows the other aspects are just beyond the door. He can’t let anything happen to them, not ever. So he panics in silence, and when the panic passes. He curls up around his weapon, holding it to his chest with eyes glued to the closet. He starves and doesn’t sleep for a week, waiting and waiting for the next time the closet rattles. He has to be ready, he has to be prepared.

So when the closet rattles again after a week, Virgil stands a little taller, but shakes just as much, and carefully opens the door, ready to fight whatever comes out the other side.

* * *

“Get out get out! Get _out!”_ Though he supposes he should have suspected his words would backfire on him, Virgil is still stunned when the spindly creature that came out of his closet rams itself against his door, scratches around the wood, then falls into the hallway, tearing through the mind palace. He blinks dumbly at the now open door, mind freezing for just a moment.

“Oh shi-” His curse is cut off by Patton’s scream echoing through the house. Virgil sprints out of his room, throwing himself into the wall on accident in his rush to get to where Patton is. The creature is on the opposite side of the room, it’s mouth open far too wide with drool dripping onto the carpet, while Patton is frozen staring back. At the sudden sound of Virgil’s feet hitting the bottom of the stairway, Patton glances up at him, mouth open to question but there’s no time.

It’s a race, one that Virgil thankfully wins. He dives into Patton’s middle, wrapping his arms around him and throwing them both to the floor. Both aspects scramble back, Virgil getting to his feet sooner and standing protectively in front of Patton as the creature with it’s too long limbs shakes it’s head. It’s hisses and spits and lets out a piercing cry when a sword is rammed sideways into it’s chest.

Roman ducks out of the way of the thing flailing about in pain. He slides on his knees to Patton to hold him tight. Virgil doesn’t move, watching the thing twitch on the ground and go still. His breathing is slow and ready. It’s never been that easy to get rid of them. Only his weapon had every gotten rid of them before. It’s too easy. It’s not over.

“Virgil what is gong on?” Patton’s voice shakes him to the core. He can’t jeopardize what they have now. They just started accepting him and now a thing escapes and he can only hope they don’t blame him. Virgil takes another deliberate slow breath, then takes the risk to glance behind him. Roman has Patton in his arms as if ready to haul him up and run at any moment. Patton looks pleading, hoping Virgil isn’t the cause of whatever the thing. Virgil wants to tell them, and he would, should the creature not start shrieking again, throwing it’s limbs around once more.

Virgil ducks under one, watching from the corner and Roman pushes himself and Patton away from any attack. The sword still stuck int he thing’s side helps no one. Virgil is crouched low. Ready to spring and run. The creature twists and hisses, turning from Virgil, to the two of them hiding near a corner.

“This ruckus is far far too much for-” Logan stops short coming around the corner. He freezes and Virgil’s eyes snap to him as the thing hisses directly at Logan shutting him up.

“Logan what is that thing?” Roman shouts from across the room. Virgil’s eyes dance between the two, on opposite sides with that thing in the middle. He watches the creature’s moves, waiting, looking for which way it will run.

“I have no idea,” Logan’s voice is quiet, careful. Virgil chances a look at the logical side, Logan’s eyes connecting with his.

“Virgil?” Is his question, and Virgil keeps as low as he can as he vaults over the couch and into Logan, knocking them both out of the way as the creature runs straight into the wall again. Virgil keeps an arm on Logan to drag him to the others. The pile up, holding each other, all freezing when the thing screeches angrily again. And Virgil stands between them.

“You ever hear the phrase ‘demons in your head’”? He asks. He can hear a mumbled ‘yes’ from Logan.

“They come from my closet.” He positions himself in front of his family, crouched low, and waiting. His heart may be pounding wilder than it ever has, but he keeps his breathing slow. Every movement, every twitch the creature has, every step it takes back and forth, Virgil notices. It tilts his head back and forth, judging Virgil much the same. Another slow breath.

“Virgil?” Patton’s voice, far away and foggy. He can hear but he can’t listen to him just yet. He needs to get rid of the thing first. It crouches itself and Virgil twists his wrist, waiting, waiting. He has to time this right other wise it could mean harm to the others. He can’t let that happen, he can’t let them be hurt.

Carefully he holds a hand back, telling them to wait, to be silent, to do nothing. He can barely tell if they understand but they don’t question or move. He takes a small step forward with hands now in front of him, the creature hissing and spitting as it bones protrude from it’s back in it’s own crouch. It’s waiting for him to make the wrong move as well. Virgil narrows his eyes slightly, trying to remember that thing Logan taught him during chess.

So he waits, patient and still, breath coming and going even as it’s ever been. He’s aware of it all. The others frozen behind him, and the thing, with no eyes and what might be skin stretched too tight over limbs that are twice the size of any human, twitching and moving side to side, muscle debating when to strike. He waits for his moment to come.

“Virgil?” Patton’s voice calls him again softer. Virgil inhales hard, holding his breath and blinking. Either because the creature knows it can not win or because it takes the bait, it strikes. It lets out a guttural scream, and seemingly before it can even take the first step of it’s lunge, Virgil throws his hand back, his hammer materializing just as it should. His other hand comes to grip the handle as well and quick as a whip swings the hammer with all his effort up right into the face of the thing.

The only sound is it’s pained cry, and the sharp _crack_ of the bones in it’s face breaking. Then there is silence. The creatures is nothing but ash falling around the room. Virgil falls to the ground of the heave of his hit, his hammer falling right beside him. His eyes scan the falling patches of black, like some kind of twisted snow, turning the carpet and ugly color. He takes a deep breath.

Then another, and another, and another, until the breaths aren’t deep, they’re coming too quick. Hyperventilation is quick, making his vision blurry. His hands tangle in his hair and the calm he felt has subsided to fear. It had been too close. Much to close. To him. To his family. To hurting someone. He can’t breath. What if he hadn’t been there in time? What if he couldn’t save them? What if he had failed?

A hand touches his shoulder and he jerks hard, hand to hammer in seconds ready to throw.

“Hey hey it’s okay,” Patton is kneeling by him, hand up to Virgil can see them, a soft smile on his face. Virgil scans him for something, some kind of danger his body thinks he’s still in.

“It’s alright, I’m here,” Patton carefully lowers his hand, Virgil watching the movement, and takes Virgil’s free one and places it on his chest. It’s warm there, Patton’s heart beating under his hand strong and steady.

“See? I’m okay, you’re okay, Logan and Roman too, we’re all okay,” Patton reassures him. Virgil glances over Patton’s shoulders, Logan and Roman, nodding along and offering kind looks.

“It’s okay?” His voice cracks in his question. Patton nods.

“It’s okay.” He says back. Virgil nods and then begins to shake. His hands and body begging for something but he doesn’t know what. Patton moves in closer then, scooping him into his embrace. And Virgil latches on. His arms constrict and his hands curl into Patton’s shirt, giving his body that something it needed.

“It’s okay it’s okay it’s okay,” He repeats to himself, trying to calm down. He can feel Roman and Logan come in close, holding him as well. His breathing calms only to spur up again.

“It’s okay it’s okay,” He clenches his teeth. He got so close to loosing them.

“It’s okay,” Patton whispers to him, rocking him and holding him.

“We’re here, we’re here.”

* * *

It takes longer than he would like to admit for him to fully calm down. His mind and body absolutely exhausted from the strain he just put it through. He’s still sitting on the floor in Patton’s lap. Logan has since gotten up and started vacuuming up the dirt scattered over the carpet. Roman is rearranging the furniture from what got turned over in the squabble. When he gets near Virgil and Patton, he hooks his foot under the handle of Virgil’s still there hammer and kicks it up to himself.

“I didn’t know you could conjure this,” Roman swings it a few times, tossing it about and testing it. Virgil shrugs lazily.

“It’s marvelously balanced.” Roman has a finger balanced between the handle and the head, the tool teetering for only a moment, then righting itself into stability.

“I must say it is intriguing, how long have you been able to conjure it?” Logan puts away the vacuum, coming close and holding out a hand in a silent question to Roman who hands the hammer over.

“I was born with it,” Virgil says hoping that makes sense. They weren’t exactly born so to speak, but when they came to existence as aspects, the tool is there too. Logan tosses it himself, also testing balance, then holds the handle for Roman to take who eagerly swings it around again.

“It seems my theory was wrong,” Logan mutters and waves his hand, his notepad appearing where he needs it and scribbling down his notes.

“Theory?” Virgil finds himself asking. Patton helps him sit up but stay close, holding Virgil’s hand for comfort, whose comfort they don’t question.

“Well,” Logan stutters embarrassed. Roman nudges him playfully and Logan glares.

“I had thought that perhaps you being one of the ‘darker aspects’ that maybe you didn’t have a physical weapon, that your weapon had been your words or self,” Logan does his best to make it sound less bad than it is, but Virgil doesn’t take it harsh. He manages to stand with Patton’s help.

“We all have one,” He says. Roman hands the hammer over to him when he gestures for it. He swings it back and forth himself, feeling the familiar weight, before he swings it one way and it disappears without a second thought.

“How long have you been fighting those things?” Patton tilts his head to the side as he asks, walking backwards into the kitchen for something. Virgil shrugs.

“How long have I been prominent to Thomas?” He wonders aloud. Logan pulls out another notebook, flipping through it.

“Since he has been about thirteen.” Virgil looks up, doing the math in his head.

“Since he was thirteen then.” He finally says giving up on the math. The others gasp slightly.

“You’ve been dealing with those horrendous things all on your own?” Roman’s voice goes an octave higher than it should, his sword slung over his shoulder carelessly. Virgil nods.

“My big strong boy protecting us all this time!” Patton rushes out of the kitchen, dropping a plate of food and drink to the table on his way, and barrels into Virgil for a hug. Virgil hugs back, unsure if Patton is proud or scared or a strange mixture of the two.

“What are they?” Roman picks up a soda and lounges on the couch for a story. Virgil sighs.

“Intrusive thoughts, the random darker ideas we get,” Virgil joins Roman on the couch, sitting on his legs so not to squish them too hard. Patton and Logan join the pile.

“You’ve been dealing with this for ever?” Patton whispers. Virgil huffs and tells the first time he ever faced one of the things, snorting when Patton screeches at the idea of a gorilla spider.

“So that’s why we didn’t see you when you first appeared,” Logan muses aloud. Patton puts a hand over Logan’s mouth before he can start lecturing.

“Well we can help you too ya know”? Roman pouts from under everyone. Virgil rolls his eyes and allows himself to be dragged down to be hugged properly, not mentioning so far only his weapon had been able to harm it.

“Yeah maybe,” He says non committal but it’s good enough. He’s wrapped up and held, loved and kept safe. He buries himself in them all, promising again to never let anything harm them. They’re okay, he’s okay, it’s okay.

**Author's Note:**

> -cane flip-  
> Have any of you seen spy kids island of dreams? Or a quiet place? Those are what the monsters are based on appearance wise. Also if youve seen thor ragnarok, how hela gets her weapons is kind of how I picture Virgil getting his. laa dee daa


End file.
